


Performance

by SevenOceansOfInk



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Food Kink, Humiliation, Light Sadism, Macro/Micro, Size Kink, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 09:43:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15816372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevenOceansOfInk/pseuds/SevenOceansOfInk
Summary: An employee fails to meet his goals, and his manager decides to dispose of him now that his services are no longer required.





	Performance

“I’m disappointed in your performance, Mikhail.”

The young man flinched. He wondered if Sammi noticed. She probably didn’t, after all.

She sighed, and leaned to one side, reaching down for a drawer well outside of Mikhail’s vision. Most everything in Sammi’s office was outside of his vision, actually. That was simply the consequence of being an inch tall in the presence of a towering, six-foot tall executive.

Sammi set an insulated bag down on her desk, removing a bottle of water, a cup of yogurt, and a spoon. Her eyes remaining fixed on him, like giant, blue-green spotlights pinpointing his location on the vast, polished glass surface of her desk. “Do you not have anything to say for yourself,” she said, a curl to her lips that made her condescension absolutely clear, “young man?”

He swallowed. It was hard not to feel nervous in Sammi’s presence. Beyond the simple fact that she towered over the office staff like a living, breathing, moving mountain, there was the fact that she was devastatingly beautiful. Dusty blonde hair that tumbled down onto her shoulders, framing a face with eyes that could pierce lead and lips as lush and red as the brightest, most fresh strawberries. Her body framed in a meticulously tailored suit, blouse taut over the ample curve of her breasts. Breasts bigger, Mikhail reminded himself, than any house he could ever dream of affording.

He sputtered uselessly, sounds tumbling out of his mouth.

“Words,” she said, the sound of her voice sending a shiver down his spine. “Use your words.”

He took a deep breath, shaking off the chill that had come over him. “I apologize for my inadequacy, Ma’am. I know that I do your company a disservice when I do not perform to your standards.”

Of course, Mikhail thought, her standards were entirely unreasonable, impossible to achieve without pulling fourteen hour days. Especially when overtime was prohibited under any circumstances. To tell her so, however, would be fatal. He remembered what had happened to Brian, the last person to attempt to give Sammi a piece of his mind.

Actually, he didn’t need to remember. The sole of one of Sammi’s shoes was framed on the wall, still stained with the bloody smear that had once been the defiant member of the accounting team. Right there, for everyone to see. Protest was more than pointless, they all knew. Protest meant death.

“Petty, petty words. Excuses. That’s all you have for me, Mikhail, is excuses.” Sammi rolled her eyes, peeling the top off of her yogurt. “Month after month, the only thing I hear from you is ‘I apologize for being inadequate’ or ‘I’m sorry I didn’t meet my quota, Ma’am’. I’m honestly tired of the excuses.”

The foil cover to the yogurt was cast aside into some unseen trash bin. Sammi lifted her water bottle to her lips, drinking deep, eyes closed as her throat pulsed as mouthful after mouthful of cool liquid was sent spilling down her throat. A satisfied sigh as the beverage was set back down. “I’m afraid I’ll have to liquidate you, Mikhail. Your services are no longer required. Or relevant. Or useful.”

Mikhail nodded. “May… May I be dismissed, Ma’am?”

“Absolutely not. I’m having my lunch.”

Chills came over him again. “If I’m no longer needed, Ma’am…”

“Remove your clothing.”

He blushed. “M-ma’am?”

“You were given an order. Remove your clothing.” She leaned over the desk, hands folded like a hill in front of Mikhail. “Now.”

He acted as told, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and removing his belt, hands shaking as he peeled away the layers of clothing from his body. Sammi continued to loom over him, her eyes watching him, following him as he set each article into a pile beside him.

He stood, hesitating, stripped down to nothing but his briefs. Sammi scoffed. “Remove those as well. You were told to undress.”

“Ma’am, isn’t that…”

“Remove them.” The words, soft as they were spoken, nonetheless bit through the air like a gunshot.

Obeying, he slowly pushed his underwear downward, one hand covering his groin, ashamed to be so exposed in front of someone so powerful. Sammi’s expression, however, remained unchanged, even as she sat back into her chair.

Opening his mouth to speak, Mikhail instead yelped as Sammi’s hand reached out across the desk, plucking his naked body from the glass surface. She seemed indifferent to his discomfort, not even caring about his nakedness.

Her hand moved back, drifting oven pens and paperwork, a tablet open to a spreadsheet full of numbers, a mug with coffee ring stains on the bottom. The top of the yogurt container drifted closer.

Mikhail looked up, meeting Sammi’s eyes, jaw going slack as she released him, sending him plummeting into the white, creamy foodstuff below.

He sank into the yogurt on impact, the thick substance shifting, making room for him, slowly oozing back over his bare skin as he settled into it. Heart racing in his chest, Mikhail looked upwards, Sammi’s face above looking down like the face of a monstrous goddess. “Ma’am, please,” he whimpered.

She picked up a spoon, sinking it into the yogurt, giving a slowly, thoughtless stir. Her eyes drifted away from him. A wave of yogurt pushed him forward, driving him deeper, the thick substance threatening to push through his mouth and flood his throat. He swept his arms through it, trying to push himself upward, trying to reach air again instead of an unending white wall of cream.

Finally breaking the surface, gasping for air, he watched as Sammi slipped her spoon into her mouth. The air vibrated with the sound of her purring, eyes closed as she slipped the end of the spoon out from between her closed lips. A pulse of her throat, and that mouthful was sent down into her, lost forever.

“Ma’am,” Mikhail repeated, voice trembling, trying to speak as loudly as he could manage. “Ma’am, please, don’t do this.”

The spoon plunged into the yogurt cup again, sinking into its contents, giving it another stir. Again, he was forced downward, holding air in his lungs until they burned. His limbs tried to move, tried to push him upwards, but the heavy weight of such viscous liquid around him kept him largely immobile.

A pressure, a firm movement, swept him up. More than just a wave of thick yogurt.

The weight of a spoon being stirred.

His heart threatened to crack his ribs. Rejoining his efforts, Mikhail dug his arms and legs through the imprisoning liquid, breathing a sigh of relief as his head broke the surface, fresh air pouring into his lungs like water from a fire hose.

He opened his eyes, and screamed.

Sammi’s face loomed large in front of him, her mouth spanning a wider and wider distance as she carried the spoon and its contents closer. He could see the the lines, the details, the texture of her lipstick. His eyes widened, mouth falling slack

“Ma’am, please…”

The tip of her tongue emerged, a massive, blunt, rounded instrument pushing through her lips, stroking their surface in one slowly sweep.

“Ma’am…!”

Her mouth opened. Perfect, polished, ivory teeth separated. Her tongue glistened in the bright light of her office.

Mikhail’s mouth hung open. Words escaped him. He pushed himself back, feet kicking against the surface of the spoon, until they caught on the edge. Looking down, he could see the glass tabletop, solid and unforgiving, covered in papers, her tablet, pens. Harsh and unyielding to any fall, sure to shatter every bone in his body if he jumped.

He was trapped, even out in the open air. His fate was already determined.

The spoon plunged into Sammi’s mouth, her lips sealing tight behind Mikhail. A firm tug, and the surface of the spoon slid out from beneath him, depositing himself with the yogurt onto her tongue. The thick liquid oozed out across its surface, carrying him over her taste buds, his body assaulted by the overwhelming cool of her meal and the wet, oppressive heat of her mouth.

He wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. He knew both were futile, and could only stare with wide-eyed fear at the gaping arch that led down into her throat.

She did not give him long to consider it. Her tongue pushed back, shifting to a steep slope, yogurt running downward like an avalanche. Mikhail fought to keep his head above the surface, watching the entrance to her esophagus slide nearer, nearer, until the liquid mass ran over the edge.

Her throat stretched wider, tightened, capturing her mouthful and directing it downward. Mikhail opened his mouth to scream, only to find it flooded by a wave of yogurt.

Sammi smiled, swallowed, settling her spoon back into her yogurt. It felt cool and soothing, easing down her throat. Her mind drifted for a moment, considering the tiny man mixed up in it. Considering his rapid descent towards her stomach. Considering that, should he survive being drowned in yogurt for those precious seconds, he would be forced to endure her stomach for as long he could tread water, or as long as he could last before the pain caused him to black out.

Then, with a shrug, she dismissed it from her mind. Her fingers darted over her tablet, sending a brief email to human resources as she ate another spoonful.


End file.
